The World
by angeltrap
Summary: What is it about insanity that is so fascinating? The twisted relationship between our favorite freaks after L's supposed death. LightxL, BBxL, LightxBBxL, ideologically sensitive stuff ft. some non-con.
1. Light: Rule the World

**Title:** The World

**Author:** Cassidy304 / v-anillaheaven

**Pairing:** LightxL, BBxL, LightxBBxL

**Genre:** … idk, hurt/comfort, dark romance, drama, lolwhat? Is insanity a genre? It's really dark but since I like hope, there's hope as well.

**Rating:** M / R

**Warnings:** mxm, **dub-con and non-con**, ideologically sensitive stuff, people acting like they don't have all the cereals in the bowl, weird relationships and crazy people having sex and beating each other to bloody pulp. No gore, though, 'cause I can't stomach it. :D

**Summary:** What is it about insanity that is so fascinating? _I'm gonna break your heart and get away with murder._

**Disclaimers:** The title is obviously the title of the first theme song of the DN series, "The World" by Nightmare. The former spine and ribcage of the story is "Get Away With Murder" by Jeffree Star, because once upon a time there was a rainy day and my iPod decided to entertain my ears with this wonderful song while I was reading The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases, and the stanzas just _clicked_. The idea I originally had was for a much longer story, though, and there isn't much left of it except for the weirdass relationship here. So, much to my dismay, the lyrics don't click that nicely anymore. XD Don't let it bother you.

**A/N:** What _is_ it about insanity that is so fascinating? And would I even like Death Note if it weren't for the delightful loconess of almost all of the main characters?

Obviously, the ideas expressed in these chapters are not what _I_ think. They are what I think these characters might think in these circumstances lol. So no, going on a killing spree and then telling the police, "but she said it was okay!" is not the way to go. o_o Please don't do anything like that. I don't think they let you read delicious DN por- I mean, fan fiction in prison.

Also, I'm super nervous about publishing this because, well, it's the darkest thing I've ever written. (Not necessarily this chapter but the whole story.) But hey, even the most devoted fans of fluff and humor need to pour all the crap out of their head every now and then, right? There are two more parts of this, and for once I can actually promise updating won't take six months. XD

* * *

i

**Light: Rule the World**

_There's a mystery inside my head  
And it's you dripping all in red  
**Did I hurt you?  
Let me make it safe and sound**_

_Can you feel me breathing down your neck?  
You're just a perfect little human wreck  
But I like you  
Enough to destroy you, tear you down _

_

* * *

_

I tried.

I tried so hard.

When the Death Note was safely in my hands again, the first thing in my mind was that _yes_, my plan had worked – worked so beautifully that even I found it hard to believe – that I had won. Nothing and no one could stand in my way anymore.

But three hours into the first night of my renewed freedom found me rubbing the scar around my left wrist, unable to sleep and with images of his jawline, his thighs, his sharp hipbones and his eyes (_God, those eyes_) running through my mind, and when the first rays of sunlight began to caress my room through the curtains, only to find me still awake, still thinking, _still alone_, I had to admit it.

I had allowed myself to become attached to my worst enemy.

_Attached_ wasn't even enough. I needed him, wanted him so badly; I could no longer fall asleep without his steady breathing there, reminding us both (to my delight and his dismay) that he's human, and my mind needed his to compete with to keep my thoughts in order. And as horribly hormonal it makes me sound, I craved for him for his body just as much as I craved for him for his intelligence.

Once hadn't been enough.

Twice hadn't been enough.

A thousand times would still remain unable to satisfy me.

I started spending my nights in the Headquarters again, determined to use the remaining time to the fullest.

Because I _had to_ kill him. He couldn't live. I couldn't let him live. Soon, so soon he would be taken away from me – _I _would take him away from me – and I would just have to have all of him now.

It took me days to realize that I had already subconsciously decided to not kill him, and by then it was almost too late; but my good fortune had yet to turn her back on me, and on November fifth he was declared dead (by a doctor who was going to hang himself a week later, finally breaking under the stress of his double life as a good father and a pedophile), stuffed into a black, anonymous body bag (by a killer-for-hire-nurse who was in for a nasty traffic accident the next day, along with her partner in crime and love), and transferred to the dingy little hotel room I had booked (by a morgue night guard with three rape-murders under his belt and a one-way train to Hell to catch a few hours later).

The Death Note was such a beautiful thing.

"Don't make me kill you," I chanted to him while he slept like a corpse, with his hands crossed over his chest, white and unmoving and _so dead_ there in the moonlit room. I suppose utter calm always follows the fiercest storms, in so many ways – it wasn't that many hours ago when rain and lightnings and the low, heavy rumble of thunder had been battering the Headquarters with enough force to drive us indoors. "Open your eyes and say yes, because if you don't I'll have to kill you. Don't make me kill you."

In time, he did open his eyes, momentarily confused that he was a live, momentarily relieved, thinking it had been a nightmare, and momentarily enraged when he realized that it had all been true, down to the fact that his heart had actually stopped beating for a while.

And then, for quite a long moment, saddened to the point of looking like a lifeless corpse again when he realized that no, Watari's death had not been a nightmare.

"I swear it wasn't me," I told him, unable to bear the look in his eyes – what was it, anyway? Sadness, hatred, loathing, sorrow, no, it was nothing like that. It was just a... look. An unnerving stare through his unshed tears. "I swear. Not me, and not Rem, and not Misa, and in no way orchestrated by me. I swear."

It was true, too, though I wasn't going to tell L that having Rem kill the man _had_ been my plan. Now I knew why she had looked so strange when I had talked to her some days ago – explaining to her that no matter what happened, killing L was not a solution, that he had to remain alive – I had hoped she would still get desperate enough to kill the old man, effectively ridding me of them both. It appeared that the man had been destined to die that day in any case, and it had been yet another stroke of my incredible luck – and at the same time the incredible lack of it – that he had passed away just moments before the drug in L's tea had taken effect.

And as the scrawny detective clung to me and cried, possibly for the first time in his life, over someone else, I was immensely happy that Watari's blood was not on my hands.

Later, when he had cried and slept and cried some more, he listened calmly when I ordered, demanded, and finally, begged him to remain by my side - "- I can't do this alone, L, I thought I could but I... can't... and I can't risk turning into a tyrant, and that's what I'm going to become, what I've already started to become, _you_ must live to keep me from turning into a monster, you are the only one who can keep me as myself because you are the only one who knows me, and I know I'm asking so much of you, but then again if you don't agree I'm going to have to kill you anyway, and you're _dead_ already -"

I was no longer sure how much of it I had said out loud and how much of it I had merely thought, but we both knew that either L or Kira had to die so I could keep him forever, and -

"... and quite conveniently, L is dead to the world, now," I heard him murmur against his thumb. "Fine, then. I agree."

It did not matter that he agreed for purely selfish reasons rather than the betterment of the world or the questionable love for me I suppose some part of him felt – those two beautiful words were all it took to help me regain my composure, and in a fraction of a second I was calm and collected again, looking at him with a pleasant, confident smile. "I figured you would," I said, unable to keep the slight sneer from my voice.

Because now that the panic was over, I knew there had been no way he would pass a chance to change me, affect me, bring me down, instead opting to die a meaningless death out of sheer stubbornness. There had never been a chance that he would say no.

He just looked at me from beneath the veil of his unruly bangs and smiled thinly, like he knew something I would only find out later. Infuriating, as always.

I moved out from home and rented a small apartment in Harajuku. I kept him there, in a golden little cage where we could play house and no one else could enter; not even my family. Not even Misa, who never said anything though I have a feeling that she _had known all the time, _from the very first time I had kissed him. Like my father, and Matsuda, and everyone else – from the moment L had first uttered my name as the name of a Kira suspect, they all had known, deep down, who I was, but they all refused to let it seep into their conscious mind.

Pretending, just like -

"... just like we are, Light-kun," L whispered against my lips when I came home one night, greeting him with a kiss in the kitchen. "I do not know how to be a housewife. I will not learn to cook, to clean, to do the laundry, and I will most certainly not provide you with an heir. Give me something to do. I'm bored to death, and you of all people know what happens when someone like us is bored out of his mind. I will not slave for you here at home while you're away trying to capture yourself, and I will not sit here doing _nothing_, just waiting for you to come home so you can _fuck me_ -"

His left eye was purple for three days after that, and his lip took forever to heal because I never gave it the chance to.

He bruised so easily. Maybe it was the pale skin. But he never broke – no, I could kick him around and beat him with anything I could get a hold of, and sometimes he would cry and sometimes he would laugh like a madman while coughing blood, but he never broke. The furniture did, repeatedly.

Some part of me was horrified that I had become so violent, so rash, so abusive – I, the pure one, the Savior, the one who was supposed to protect the innocent – but another, a much larger part, knew it was alright. L was not an innocent, and when I had decided to purge the world, I had known it would change me; I had known the blood of hundreds, thousands, millions would be on my always so clean hands. I had accepted it, sold my soul to the Devil so that others – good people like my parents, my sweet little sister – could live peacefully without fear.

Ryuk once said that if I killed all the criminals, the only bastard left would be me. Only when I had to kill the FBI agents sent to investigate me, and Naomi Misora after them, did I realize that he had been right. I was changing the world – individuals did not matter.

The agents and Misora – innocent though they may have been, sacrificing them was necessary, and I came to realize that sacrificing myself would be necessary as well. Despite everything, I had been born as a human, and human faults were engraved into my body and soul; in time, the power I held would corrupt me, and once there would be nothing else left to fear, the people saved by me would come to fear me.

And then someone would have to defeat me, the one who had saved the world by drowning it in blood, and then that person could reign peacefully, because they would only have _my_ blood on their hands. The world needed to be purged, I knew, but the people needed someone to blame.

I was a sacrifice just as much as every innocent who died for Kira, as much as Misora, and as much as L. Misora's fate had been to make way for Kira, which meant her death; L's was to stand as a shield between the world and the tyrant who had meant well, taking the blows that could have otherwise wreaked irreparable destruction on the world; and mine was to become that tyrant, to become hated.

And I had accepted that too.

L knew it, too, on some level. At times, I felt guilty for keeping him prisoner, but the truth was that he rarely missed his freedom. He had never liked going out or meeting people, and I could provide him with almost anything he could wish for – in time, I even allowed him to start working on cases again under a new alias, though I always read whatever he sent to the police very carefully to make sure he was not sending encoded messages to his former allies. The greatest detective alive – or dead, if you asked the Kira Task Force – was actually very easy to keep entertained: a bunch of fresh cases, a kitchen full of sweets and fruits, a soft bed he could avoid like plague until he collapsed or until I threw him onto it, and enough mind-games and physical closeness with me was all it took to keep him relatively happy.

No, happy is not the right word... but after mourning for Watari for a while, he was not _unhappy _either.

I could never be entirely sure what he thought about our relationship. I think he must have known that I hated the mere idea of hurting him just as much as I couldn't help doing it nevertheless, that I had to keep him safe just like I had to try to break him, time after time getting so close to succeeding that it was scary.

Sometimes he seemed to sense an approaching storm and managed to calm me down with a few words and a well-placed kiss. Sometimes, there was no need to calm me down, and my hands were gentle and his eyes were very shy, and his smile was sweeter than all the sugar he could consume. Sometimes, it took the sound of his skull cracking against the floor, or his sobbing, or a breathless, desperate, "_Light-kun_..." to shake me out of the blood-red haze, and sometimes he fought me tooth and nail, screamed bloody murder or even begged me to stop when I entered him without his permission.

Sometimes, I swear he knew I was in a bad mood, and he provoked me on purpose, taunting, jeering, mocking me until I snapped.

It felt so good, so exciting and yes, even arousing, to know that my greatest antagonist was so completely under my control – that I could do anything, _anything_ to him, whether he wanted it or not. He had no way of stopping me.

I had won.

But sometimes, when his kiss-bruised lips twisted into a slow, taunting smirk, when his eyes flashed behind the tears of pain and humiliation, and especially in those dark, dark moments when he was on the floor, curled up in pain, lips bloodied and still laughing wildly... I was no longer all that sure about my victory.

Sometimes, I was dreadfully aware of the fact that I had won merely because he _allowed it_, because he had said, "I agree", and that L, the very person I was so tempted to shatter into little pieces, was the only thing in this world keeping me together.

And sometimes I would apologize wordlessly, kiss away his tears and spend hours trying to ease his pain, and sometimes I would leave him to lick his wounds, though never without guilt.

L had not been innocent when I had first took his frail body into my arms, and he was even less so now, and yet I felt bad for hurting him, even though it was his part, his _fate_ to take those blows.

I guess I loved him after all.

* * *

There. Hope you liked it, or at least weren't too much mentally scarred to leave a review. It would be much appreciated.


	2. L: Abandon the World

_A/N: Hello again~ Thank you for your awesome reviews on the first chapter! I sincerely hope you like L's chapter as well, though it gets even darker. Even more insanity ensues._

_Also, **do not read if you don't much care for non-con.** It's not very graphic and not very violent but it needs a warning, anyways. (I felt a little awkward writing that part, so if it shows, I apologize. I'm still learning ^^')_

_... I just finished writing more of I Won't Say, I don't really feel like taking all this dark stuff seriously... XDDD But seriously speaking, we're back at ideologically sensitive content. Especially if you like your L virgin pure, solving cases out of sheer want to do good etc, umm, don't read it. :D Or if you do, at least don't bash my L. I decided to go for a very different version, this time._

_The italics in the beginning are flashbacks from when they were chained, and later they're L's thoughts.  
_

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ii

**L: Abandon the World**

_There's a memory inside my head  
It feels like a part of me is dead  
**I should save you  
But I want to watch you drown**_

_There is nothing you could say or do  
Words mean nothing when your lips are blue  
I love you  
Now that you're six feet under ground _

_

* * *

_

There was something about murderers.

I seemed to attract crime with my mere presence. This was partly why I became a detective.

Crime, much to my dismay, seemed to attract me even more. This was also partly why I became a detective.

I have never felt compelled to commit any serious crime myself, though I tend to go against the law quite often to achieve what I want, but I don't deny that I have a criminal mind. I have what it takes to steal, blackmail, stage, destroy, even murder, though I have never resorted to that.

Not rape, though.

I _do, _however, have what it takes to get raped. No... I have what it takes to make someone rape you.

I have what it takes to place the blame on someone else.

"_There seems to be," I had said, once, so long ago, when he was Light and I was Ryuzaki, "something about me that makes people want to... hurt me. I don't know if it's my appearance, my attitude, my arrogance, the way I speak... I admit that there are plenty of reasons to despise me, but something about me makes everyone want to harm me._"

What is a rape, anyway? Is it a rape if you arrange it?

"_Even you, Light-kun – not only when I provoke you, but even right now, even as my friend and lover... you don't want to wait until I'm ready, you want to take what you want, right now, and you want to hit me for refusing... don't you?"_

I first came to realize this when I was a child, and I was quick to learn to use it to my advantage. Kids I didn't like would end up getting grounded or even suspended for beating me up, and they could never tell why they had wanted to hit me in the first place. The idea had just occurred to them. When I got older, I learned it didn't only go for physical violence but psychological as well, and I found out that there were many other ways to hurt someone other than breaking their ribs. It became clear to me that while I wasn't attractive, something about me made many people want to dominate me, even own me, in one way or another...

I guess it's no wonder I turned out so strange.

"_It doesn't matter if you admit it," I had whispered, my arms around him and his safe and secure around me, comfortable and careless and foolish and feeling like I belonged there, "because what's important is that you would never actually do it. You would never even consider doing it – you have probably never even realized you want to_."

It never fails to surprise me that even after all these years I can still make a complete fool of myself in matters such as this.

"Good evening, Light-kun," I greeted him that night, months after the beginning of my imprisonment, standing in the kitchen, having just gotten up for more cake, but the moment I saw his face, I knew I had already said something wrong. Light had left to work, but Kira had come home instead of him.

I managed to dodge the first blow, but that only made his second one stronger.

My body was never anything more but a tool, just like my mind. Both had proved to be of nothing but trouble as long as I cared what happened to them, so I stopped caring. I chased criminals, pretended to be one of them, became one of them, executed them. If there was no evidence, I would come up with it.

If there was no crime I could prove, I would create one. I would become the crime.

There was something about me that made everyone want to hurt me...

The police handled it as a rape, as did the judge; the criminal was executed for a rape, because I had no solid evidence he had murdered.

But was it really one when in reality, I arranged it all, from the struggle and the eye-witness to the staged suicide of the teenager I was pretending to be?

"Light-kun," I gasped, finally getting a sound out of my mouth when the blows suddenly stopped raining on me. "No, Kira-kun... What is it, Kira-kun? Did something happen today?"

It disgusted me to hear my voice say this – I was attempting to calm him down, _tell me what is wrong and I'll make it go away, honey_, practically one step away from calling him Kira-sama and crawling at his feet – but even with every part of my body aching, I had to say it, had to be kind and regret it at the same time.

After my supposed death I had never once said I cared for him, but I did. I did, but because something had grown the wrong way in my heart when I had been young, it didn't automatically mean I wanted to keep him happy and safe.

Oh, I wanted. But I wanted to see him crash and burn, too, for all the hurt he'd put me through.

_If I can't bring you down from the outside, I will make you rot from the inside, Kira. I will make you what you hate. I will make you hate yourself._

I could always say I loved Light and hated Kira, that I wanted Kira's destruction to save Light from his wicked ways, but I know it's not – at least not yet – a case of split personality. Kira was only a mask Light wore to be able to do what he thought was right, and Light was a mask Kira wore to do what he wanted.

Having him executed was my responsibility as L, the detective, and saving him from the darkness of his soul was my responsibility as Ryuzaki, his friend and lover. I should have helped him to cling to his remaining bits of sanity, for his sake as much as mine, but...

_Watching you drown is so much more fun._

Light was not the first one; I had once allowed Beyond Birthday abuse my body the same way, to redirect his violent tendencies from the innocent bystanders to me. It sounded nice and noble, and I guess I did want to keep him from killing meaninglessly – but I'm much too selfish to sacrifice myself like that for people I'd never know. There was something else. There was a thrill to it I had never understood.

"Oh," he said, and even though that was the first syllable to leave his mouth after he had come home, I knew instantly that his personality had shifted again – not necessarily back to Light, but even deeper into the Kira side of him – and really, they were merely different shades of Light, because Light and Kira were just one person – the blood red part, the sadistic part that not only enjoyed hurting me, but was aroused by it. "Nothing happened... just nothing. My day has been utterly boring... That put me on such a foul mood, L..."

His hand caught me by my hair, making me hiss in pain, and dragged me onto my knees from the floor, conveniently and unsurprisingly positioning me in front of his growing erection.

"I hope I'm not keeping you alive in vain," he murmured as he slowly lowered his zipper, golden red eyes glaring down on me through thick lashes, his words stabbing me straight through my vanity, my self-confidence and my survival instinct.

"If fellatio is what you're keeping me alive for, I suggest you hire a prostitute," I heard myself say. _Provoking_ him on purpose.

What truly scares me is that I can never be sure if it's Kira or Light who gets off from hurting and humiliating me.

I had known, of course, that provoking would only make it worse, but still I was a little shocked, a little frightened by the force with which he drove himself into my protesting mouth. My struggles were first awarded with sharper yanks of my hair, or violent blows to the side of my head, but eventually with him pulling back.

I had two foolish seconds of relief before I was jerked onto my feet and thrown against the kitchen table; I collided with it hard enough to make me cry out for my already bruised and sore hips, and then Light – Kira – no, _Light_ was hovering over me, his chest flush against my back and his hands roaming wild and free on my unguarded body, still making me feel so filthy even after this had transpired so many times before.

He prepared me quickly, not for my comfort but for his own, and entered, opening old wounds that had barely begun to heal and earning a hoarse, scandalous cry from me in response. He was trying to make sure it hurt, and it did, it hurt so much that I could feel the tears burning behind my eyelids; his fingertips were leaving more bruises on my white skin, and the violent, cruel pace of his thrusts was tearing more blood and breathless, raw gasps from me, and yet...

… and yet, at the same time, I could feel the mad laughter bubbling on my lips like the finest champagne, rolling off my tongue the moment his forcefulness finally brought my guard down.

It was never about _justice_. Justice was a codename just as much as Ryuzaki and Deneuve were. Justice was an _excuse._

I solved cases because I was fairly certain that had I not become the world's greatest detective, I would have become the world's greatest criminal. An idle mind is a dangerous one, especially when it is capable of so much.

After the Death Note first touched my hands, I often found myself wondering whether I would have turned out the same way as Light had the notebook landed in my hands instead. Yes and no, I believe; when I was younger, less powerful, I would have probably embraced a wonderful device like that, but as L the detective, I had no use for it, because quite frankly, I could achieve almost anything I wanted merely by pulling a few strings.

But I had always been able to understand Kira. Offering to become his companion was something L Lawliet could have done, but challenging him as L the detective proved much more enticing, much more interesting... much more lasting.

He could ignore my cries, my tears and my depression, but try as he might, he had no way to block my laughter from his mind.

"Stop it, L!" he finally snapped. "Shut the fuck up!"

He grasped my hair again and pulled, stretching my neck backwards until I couldn't breathe properly; gasping, I managed to stop the laughing, wheezing out a taunting, jeering, "Is something wrong, Kira-kun?"

"_You_ are wrong, L Lawliet," he hissed, pushing his body so close to mine I felt it was physically impossible to get any closer, "you are so fucking wrong in your weird little head. Do you ever wonder why I'm doing this to you? That's why. Listen to yourself, moaning and writhing like a slut -"

" _- you want to be loved by God just as much as everyone else."_

He had said this to me so many times that I could feel it seeping into my unconscious mind, making me crave for the slightest compliment, ready to do anything to please him in any way for a moment of undivided attention and love. Everyone wanted to be loved by him; even after all the trauma he had put me through, even though I knew very well who and what he was, I wanted it, too.

The insane laughter retreated back to my lips but refused to die, and instead emerged as a small snigger. At hearing it, he finally lost his renewed self-control, flipped me onto my back so hard that for a moment I feared he had fractured my spine against the side of the table, and backhanded me across my face.

"Snap out of it," he growled as he positioned himself and thrust into my weak body again. "You're making me sick."

"Not quite sick enough," I heard my voice rasp out.

He stopped moving, still deep inside of me, still pinning me down with far more force than was necessary, and brought his dark golden red eyes to loom over mine. "You didn't fight," he spat, and it was not a defense, it was an accusation. "You didn't struggle at all when I hit you, or when I fucked your mouth. You didn't even say _no_."

He made it sound like I had betrayed him.

The violent phase was over, for now, I realized. It was time to twist the situation into my benefit.

"I did," I lied in a weary voice, allowing my shallow eyes to wander as if I had a hard time to keep them focused, making sure to fight for each breath. "I told you to stop, and I tried to fight, but... you wouldn't listen... and you were too strong... I couldn't..."

I could keep the tears out of my eyes – that is, I wasn't able to summon them – but not from my voice, and either adrenalin or my acting skills made my whole abused frame tremble; Light looked like I had slapped him. He knew well enough that when he lost his temper, he could easily pass my protests without even noticing them, knew that he could change from caring to cruel and back to gentle in a matter of minutes.

He did not know that I knew that he knew.

He never said he was sorry, and even though I hesitate to use the word, I believe I could say that I... loved... that about him.

He remained silent for the rest of the night; pulling out of my body right then and there, washing my hair and my body gently in the shower, tending to my injuries after it; when he was satisfied with making me comfortable, he laid me down on our bed, threw our towels to the floor – _so much for the shower –_ and, with kisses and caresses, coaxed me into spreading my legs for him for the second time that night. This time, he made sure to be as gentle and considerate as possible, but for some reason, it hurt so much more than earlier, because he was trying to give me pleasure and I was seeking to destroy him.

But in the end, if this young, reckless god of murder wanted to love and hate me with all he had, I had no reason to stop him from doing so. It was better than having to live without him.

And...

Away from the judging eyes of the world, his arms were the only place I had ever felt safe to sleep in.

* * *

_I know, I know, I like my L sweet and innocent, too. But I also like L this way, and I think this is a little closer to the original - he definitely strikes me as a vengeful person. All that "immature sore loser" stuff, you know... I hope you're not too disappointed that B only really appears in the final chapter - but hey, at least it'll be twice as long as this one!_

_Hopefully you weren't too traumatized to tell me what you think?_


	3. Beyond: Burn the World

_**A/N:** Thank you for your wonderful reviews You're all awesome!_

_On with the show then, this is the final part. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter... Funnily enough, Beyond's part came out much more coherent than L's or Light's, though he's supposedly the craziest out of them... But I figured that his insanity is a different kind. Umm._

_**Includes non-consensual sex, threesome **(kind of, at least...), **and some violence + ideologically and morally sensitive content.** So if any of these are not your cup of tea, back off._

_Anyways, hope you like it! Please review!_

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iii

**Beyond: Burn the World**

_**It's time to spill your guts  
And I don't like what I see on the inside**  
I'm looking at the evidence  
This seems like a violent crime  
Did you forget that love was dangerous?  
And I feel like I'm, I, I, I..._

_I'm gonna break your heart and get away with murder_

_

* * *

_

Love is the keyword.

I've always found it funny. Light – or Kira – the "Savior" of the innocent, the bringer of a better future, was never driven by actual caring for the people he was supposedly helping; no, it was his pride. L, the terror of wrongdoers, was never guided by selfless ideas – he did it because he was bored to death.

But I – I, a ruthless serial killer who murders for personal gain and pleasure – I have always been driven by love.

And isn't love _such _a nice thing?

L had loved me too, I know. When he found out they had driven me away because I loved him, that they had made me swear to never see him again, he sought me out on his own and against their will, and together we managed to hide from them for a couple of months. He was the only one who could calm me down and prevent me from killing – he said he didn't want me to kill for fun, and he offered to take the blows and to soothe my broken nerves whenever I felt the rage, the need to hurt someone, surfacing. He held me, tended to my torn soul, cried for me, begged for me and only left me when they came for him with guns and threats – he loved me so much.

That thought, the memory of his calm eyes, his creamy skin, his lips when they were swollen from kisses, gasping for air – that was what kept me going. That was what made me kill again to get his attention in Los Angeles; even though I was deeply hurt that he didn't deal with the case personally and eventually threw me in prison, I had to believe in his love, because that kept me alive, and that kept me sane. Saner? Insane.

That my apparent death in the hands of Kira was what triggered his interest in the case gave me strength, though in the end that took him straight into the arms of Light Yagami; when I finally managed to track him down in the headquarters of the Kira Task Force, he was already gone, and for a while I feared that was where the trail ended – before his small grave in the Christian graveyard near Tokyo.

That moment, I was mortally afraid for the first time in my life.

Once again, only the obsessive love I felt kept me on the move, looking relentlessly for signs that he may be alive – and I was right.

I was overjoyed to find him alive.

I was angry to find him so damaged and humiliated.

I was downright furious to find him in Kira's arms – taking his blows, soothing his nerves. Holding him, crying for him, begging for him, all that.

My mind was full of murderous rage, so to avoid harming him out of spite I escaped, found victims – one after another – and plunged into a sea of fresh blood for days, perhaps even weeks; even all that couldn't satisfy my need for revenge, but it calmed me down.

His love – my driving force – was now directed at someone else, and seeing it from the outside made me realize that to him, it was, had always been, a weapon and a shield, nothing more.

But damn, he had stabbed me right through the heart.

I decided that I had to talk to him, even though that might end in murder, and so I waited patiently until Kira left the apartment for work, waited as L worked, ate, worked some more, and let myself in when he finally went to take a shower, leaving the rest of the apartment unguarded and drowning all the noise I made in the sound of the water.

As I waited for him to finish his shower, I searched the apartment, at the same time intrigued by this place that was probably more of a home to L than any other place had ever been – as far as I knew, he hadn't stayed so long in one place since he'd been thirteen – and disgusted at how I could sense the scent, the _aura_ of Kira lingering everywhere, entwined with L's.

This was their home – no matter that it was a prison to one of them – and I was an outsider.

With this dark thought in my mind, it was no wonder his eyes shot wide open, expressing the clearest shock and horror I'd ever seen in them, when he returned from the bathroom in his virgin white bathrobe and was captured in my arms. I must have looked like I was intending to rip his head off right there and then.

"Beyond," he gasped, though it was unnecessary; I knew he had recognized me the very instant his eyes had first landed on me, perhaps even before that – when my fingers had circled around his wrist and yanked him to me.

"Hello, love," I whispered, lifting one hand to caress the side of his face. I could see that he was terrified, because meeting me in a situation like this was so unexpected and my actions and appearance didn't match each other – he had absolutely no idea what I was going to do.

Not that I really had, either.

"You know," I continued, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, pinning him against the wall in the process, "it disappoints me that you don't take better care of yourself. That you lower yourself like this..."

He didn't waste time asking how I was alive – so he had known all along, or at least had suspected that I had faked my death – or pretending to be innocent or asking how much I knew; he knew I had seen them. He's such a smart boy. "You know very well why I'm doing this," he said instead, sharply. No '_Oh Beyond, he forced me_! _Please take me away from here_!' or anything – and though I kind of wanted to hear it, I knew I would have lost all my respect for him if he had actually said it. "I don't care about what happens to my body. It's irrelevant -"

"It's not," I interrupted him with a hiss, my grip around his delicate, bathrobe-clad shoulders tightening to what must have been quite painful; I could feel my fingertips digging into his bones. His expression didn't change one bit. "It's not irrelevant, because everything about you belongs to me, and I left it all in your care. I'm very disappointed that you thought you could abuse my property like that."

His eyes were so expressionless that it almost exceeded _expressionless –_ I could practically feel the vicious, biting hate radiating from behind them. He was almost furious enough to drop the pretense that he still loved me and was doing this merely to catch Kira.

Almost.

But I wanted to hear him say it – say that he had let me control him for exactly the same reason he now let Kira control him. I _needed_ to hear those ugly words from his pretty mouth.

"Beyond," he warned me in a low voice when my hand slipped to his back inside the robe and started to slide lower. "Do not even think about it."

Oh, I had absolutely no intention to _think_ about it, and he did not think twice either when my hand cupped his ass. He was growling _no _and lifting his leg at the same time, already before I slid my hand lower, following the curve of his butt with my fingertips, tracing it to the back of his thigh and bringing the leg around my waist. My hips were grinding into his so hard that it felt more like a bone-on-bone contact rather than skin-on-skin, and then his left leg was around me as well and his arms were wrapped around my neck and my hands were all over him and then vertical was suddenly horizontal and his bathrobe, his hair, his arms and his legs were splayed deliciously on the mattress of their bed.

I could see the marks Kira's fingers, fists and teeth had left on his creamy white skin, and I wanted to hurt him worse than that, to leave marks deeper than his.

His mouth was allowing the most delightful gasps to escape, and his fingers were twisting into the sheets, into my hair, into my clothes, and my fingers were deep inside of him, when I felt the eyes on me – not his eyes, for they were closed in ecstasy, but the eyes of his new God, standing in the doorway in his neatly pressed suit and looking at us with an indescribable expression.

I lifted my head, my lips curving into a wide grin the moment they left his bruising – already bruised – neck, and met Kira's fiery sunset red eyes with my blood red ones. Or sunrise red, I supposed – after all, this young man staring at me with the burning eyes of a god of murder was the bringer of a new era.

L was the night, and Kira was the dawn, and I was the thin, blood red line in the horizon that separated them from each other.

But I guess that I _connected_ them, too...

"Hello," I said, a slow smirk taking control of my lips, and with a shudder L froze completely, and then twisted his head to look even though he knew very well what he would see. His eyes were confused, guilty and smug and thrilled at the same time, and I know he had never even thought of the possibility that he might find himself in a situation like this, and that he was now wondering if this was _cheating_.

Then, it seemed, he suddenly remembered the bruises on his skin, the pain and the blood and the unpredictable fury of the God of New World, and decided that cheating or not, this was probably a little too much like playing with fire, and he started to struggle – to make it look like I was forcing myself on him or to rid himself of my touch, I wasn't sure, but I rather enjoyed the way his struggling was chopped neatly in half with a throaty moan when I curled my fingers. After that, though, he kicked me square in the jaw, effectively forcing me off his frail body, and scrambled to his feet, his hair in a damp mess and his bathrobe hanging from his narrow shoulders in an undeniably slutty way.

"Light-kun," he murmured, turning his back to me and looking at his captor-lover-nemesis-friend-abuser, bringing his hands in front of himself and twining and untwining his fingers together in a pathetic, insecure way.

It sickened me to see him act so pitifully. I wanted to hit him, scream at him for it – he had been, he still was, he had been my whole life, the only authority in the world I accepted, the only one capable of tricking me, beguiling me...

"He was mine before, you know," I couldn't help saying to Kira, flashing a bright smile instead of growling like an animal like I wanted to.

"_Backup_," L hissed, glancing at me over his shoulder, and I froze. His eyes were blank, cold, cruel like steel, and I was suddenly twelve again and one look of those eyes could give me nightmares for weeks.

_I wasn't enough_. _There was something wrong with me, something missing. I was... never... enough..._

I recovered soon, quickly enough to see a strange look flash in Kira's eyes, see the way L's shoulders slumped when he turned back to him, the way his tensed fingers started fiddling with the sleeve of his bathrobe again, and realized that just as L had once fooled me into believing I had full control over him, he had submitted to Kira to make him rot from the inside.

Just like I had once thought my death would be a victory over L.

Victory in defeat.

An unsettling thought started to form in the back of my mind.

"You must be Beyond Birthday," Kira said, locking eyes with me. He reached out, and L stepped into his arms.

"Pleased to meet you," I greeted him, smiling widely. I wanted to rip his eyes out for that disgusting little show of his power over L, but at the same time I was bubbling with happiness because he knew me – L had talked to him about me.

"And you are here because?"

"You have something that belongs to me, obviously." I shifted, moving to sit on the edge of the bed facing them, leaning back leisurely to expose the erection L's wanton little mewls had caused, and did my best to look as much at home on their bed as possible. I could see that my relaxed posture and vile grin were getting on his nerves; L was standing with his head turned away so I couldn't see his face.

Kira turned to look at the detective as well, forcibly turning his face to him by taking a hold of his chin. I'd have to chop off his fingers for that, later. Actually, I would probably have to chop off several other bits of him for touching my L... The thought made me feel instantly better.

"L, would you like to say something?" the killer god asked in a menacing voice.

"What do you expect me to say?" L muttered in a low voice. "I went to take a shower, and meanwhile he sneaked in and then attacked me when I returned..."

"Yes, I could see you were struggling fiercely," Kira said dryly, and L actually _blushed_.

"I was..." he began, but Kira interrupted him.

"Don't waste your breath. You're going to need it." As L looked at him, confused and frowning, Kira suddenly flashed a smirk that made me think _I_ was the sane one, turned him around and abruptly shoved him towards me; he stumbled and fell straight into my startled arms.

"You seem to have left our poor guest in quite a state," Kira said venomously, a vicious little smile still on his lips. "How impolite of you, L."

For once, I knew for sure that L and I were thinking along the same lines – we were both staring incredulously at him, wondering if we had heard correctly. Kira was right, though, and L was currently resting quite heavily on the evidence...

"Perhaps," Kira continued, settling to lounge on the armchair in the corner of the room – undoubtedly the one L usually resided in – his legs crossed at knees, arms imperiously on the armrests as if he were sitting on a throne, not a regular armchair, head tilted smugly a little back so he could look down on us, "you should finish what you started."

That was unexpected.

One part of me wanted to rip the arrogant bastard to pieces for thinking he could give orders to L, but another part – a much larger part – was way too horny to care. And, even though it stung a little that it was supposedly Kira's order, what could be better than making L mine again right in front of him?

"I think we can get along for a little while longer," I finally declared to Kira; L was still staring at him, looking stunned and strangely betrayed. I tugged at his bathrobe to get his attention, and when he slowly turned to look at me, I smirked. "You need to take that off, love."

Slowly, as if in a dream, L stood up, glanced over his shoulder once more as if to see if this was just a test, if Kira was going to lash out the moment he actually obeyed, and then, hesitantly, he allowed the bathrobe to slide from his shoulders, leaving him naked in the crossfire of two extremely heated gazes.

I admired him for keeping his cool and not flushing. I admired a lot about him, at the moment.

I leaned back and enjoyed the show just as much as Kira did as he knelt before me and, expressionless as ever, reached out to undo my pants; I couldn't, however, remain a mere spectator when his mouth closed over my aching member. My hands went to his hair and gripped hard enough to make him gasp in pain, and I had to bite back a gasp of my own; Kira's eyes flared at that, and I grinned at him.

"Never guessed you'd be the voyeuristic type, Kira," I taunted him and deliberately allowed a low moan escape from my throat.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," Kira replied, his golden red eyes glinting maliciously. I was transfixed, enchanted; I had only ever seen eyes like that in the mirror. "But don't flatter yourself too much. This is just a lesson for L."

I just smiled. I'm told that when you're insane, you don't realize it yourself, but that's bullshit; I knew exactly how twisted and deranged I was. I liked it. I exaggerated it on purpose. It gave me power unlike any other threat could have – more than a knife, more than a bullet, people had always feared my smile. L feared it as well, but that didn't matter because I knew something important was off in his pretty head, too, because insanity and intelligence always walk hand in hand. That thrilled me; we were so much alike.

He rarely smiled, though. Perhaps he didn't enjoy the look of fright on everyone's faces like I did. I smiled all the time, like the Cheshire Cat.

A tug at L's hair was all it took, and almost before I knew it – though _of course_ I knew it, I was the one pulling at his puppet strings after all – I was telling him he'd better hope his saliva was enough and he was sitting in my lap, gasping at the sudden and poorly prepared intrusion, his fingernails digging into my shoulders and mine into his hipbones. His dark, stormy eyes closed soon to hide him from the world and the world from him, thin eyebrows drawing together in pain and guilty pleasure, so I directed my gaze over his shoulder to the man watching us – calm on the outside, but boiling, melting hot with anger and lust under that tan skin, I knew just by meeting his eyes.

A breathless snigger joined the quiet gasps that filled the room, and it turned out to have come from my mouth, so I had to come up with something to follow it. "Turn around, L," seemed to be the natural way to go, "your new God wants to watch you get fucked."

His eyes opened, blinked, begged me to take my words back, closed again in defeat, and I helped him turn around in my arms so that he faced Kira and impale himself again, guided his hips up and down, bit down on his shoulder until it bled. It think he let out a shuddering sob at that point; I'm not sure, because suddenly Kira was there, and his lips swallowed most of the sounds he made.

Things got heated and messy then, and my only coherent thoughts were centered around his hips, his frail, jutting shoulder-blades, his feathery hair brushing against my face and especially the unbelievably tight heat around me; the feel of his skin under my nails and fingertips as it turned slippery with blood, the soundless sobs that wrecked his whole body, shook him to the bones, shook _me_ to the bones - the obsessive love I'd always felt for him and the newer, scorching hot vengeful rage coursed through my veins, burning as it went, and somewhere in the back of my hazy mind I thought, _It must burn him, too, because I'm inside him and that's where all the blood is, too, he must be in such pain and he deserves it all_, and then there was an unfamiliar pair of hands, stroking L's back and sometimes touching my chest in the process, snaking into my hair and gripping it tight in a fist, and the shock of feeling a strange pair of lips on my own -

At some point – probably as soon as I was finished with him and loosened my painful grip of him – Kira gathered my limp, sweaty, broken rag-doll detective into his arms and moved onto the bed with him, and L tried to protest, push him away so weakly it made me want to slap him for daring to show such weakness in front of anyone, said he'd get his suit dirty, struggled and finally just gave up and stared, with an exhausted, haunted look in his eyes, up at Kira as he lowered him onto the bed.

"Haven't you humiliated me enough?" L murmured thinly, and I leaned down to smother his words with a kiss, because I suddenly realized I hadn't kissed him hello yet. I had meant it to be a short, perhaps even chaste kiss, but my lips were still on his when Kira entered him, still on his lips when Kira twisted him into a position that was clearly uncomfortable to him and pounded into him just as mercilessly as I just had, and suddenly L's fingers were in my hair and pulling, pulling me closer, pulling me away from him, seeking for comfort in my presence as well as begging me to draw back, to let him breathe –

But I felt that every single breath he took belonged to me as well, and I made sure he had to share them all like the rest of his body, like his whimpers, moans and screams – but the shallow breaths we managed to inhale were not enough for both of us, and black and white spots were soon dancing in my vision, making his delirious sounds and expressions even more dreamlike – nightmarish? -

– and at some point I realized that the ragged breathing right next to my ear wasn't me or L because we were barely breathing, and I think I felt lips on my throat while mine were securely locked with L's, and using the element of surprise this act provided, Kira managed to yank me back for a moment – long enough to drown his own shout in L's mouth as he climaxed.

Later, much later, I woke up to a skeletal-thin forearm pressed against my throat, to flaming black eyes above me; I knew instantly that Kira was asleep because otherwise L would've acted meek and broken.

"Don't say a word," he hissed like a snake, low and dangerous, and his arm on my windpipe made sure I obeyed, for once. "You're not getting in my way here, Beyond. Do you think I couldn't kill him in his sleep? Find a way to contact the police and have him executed? I _could_, B, even now, but I don't want to. No, I have other plans and if you disturb them, I will never forgive you."

"If," I croaked and he withdrew his arm slightly to let me speak, "if your plan is to keep him like this because some twisted part of you _enjoys_ this fucked up relationship you have, I'll kill him and then you." I didn't have to say anything else – I had killed enough to be convincing.

His eyes glanced to the side and he was silent for a moment, listening for the slightest sign that Kira may have been awake. When he was satisfied that the boy god was indeed asleep he leaned close to me, unbearably close, the scent of sweat and sugar and sex and L filling my head as his thin chest touched mine and his lips my ear.

"I want to see Kira self-destruct," he whispered, and it was so disturbing, so malicious, so fucking _wrong _that it was arousing enough to make me hard again, "I will make him hate what he has become until he turns himself in, pulls the trigger or perhaps even writes down his own name -"

"Writes down?"

"Confusing. I'll explain later – if there is anything capable of listening and understanding left of you by then."

Threats, my dear Lawliet? That cut deep. "So", I asked viciously, "is your love always a trick?" It was partly an insult, but a part of me had to hear the answer – when he had so carelessly said he loved me, had that been a trick as well?

"Never," he whispered, "because love is the only emotion I'm incapable of faking. I simply don't know how to. So whatever I feel for you -" my heart leapt, "and Light-kun is genuine. But love makes a beautiful weapon – it can be _used_ for tricking, if you play your cards right."

So he had been honest about love, and dishonest about everything else. I wasn't sure if that was good or not. "You love him," I said slowly, "and you want to watch him self-destruct."

"I want to watch Kira self-destruct," he corrected me. "If Light-kun makes it through alive, then I won't raise a finger against him."

He didn't say that if Light died along Kira – as he had to, as far as I knew – L would follow him soon. He didn't have to, anymore. I knew he wasn't going to live without Kira now that he knew what it felt like to live with him – just like I could no longer go back to living without L.

"I tried it on you, too," he whispered, "but you wouldn't have made it through – I couldn't keep you from killing, murder is a part of you, engraved in your body and mind -" his spindly fingers were cold on my chest, just above my heart, and I felt almost faint when all the blood in my body rushed either into my groin or to meet his fingertips by making my heart beat faster and faster, "and you can't live without it, so I had to stop. You're a failed experiment in so many ways..."

"But isn't all this a bit too much?" I asked, biting back a moan when those cool fingers traced circles down my body. There was an edge to his touch; he was unusually sensual, attempting seducing on purpose possibly for the first time in his life, but he was wary, ready to flinch away if he so much as sensed a violent thought from my side. He was still thinking about the look on my face when I had pinned him against the wall earlier that day – he was trying to drown my bitter hatred and thirst for revenge in attention, but he wasn't sure if he was doing it right. "You let me do _anything_ I wanted to you, and now you're doing the same with him. I can't understand how such a proud, haughty person can submit to that..."

A sad little smile twisted his thin lips as his hand reached my member and those delicate fingers wrapped around it. "That seems like a relatively low price for your souls."

I came very soon after that, with the chill his words had caused still running down my spine.

With a mixture of horror and awe I thought, _we may have his body and heart to use and abuse, but he has our souls, and he will never, never in this world or even the next let us go_...

I slowly became aware of Kira's eyes on us; L was thin and fragile again, not the slightest bit threatening, but the look of respect and fascination on Kira's face told me he had been a little too slow to hide it.

Well, if this was the God L had now chosen to follow, I had no choice but to become the Devil of the New World for him, because there was no way I was leaving this life before him – no, I would see this enchanting play to the bitter end, and then I'd let the audience out, close the curtains, and follow them to death and, ah, _beyond_.

We were, I figured, Holy Trinity at its best – the God, the Devil and the Human Sacrifice. Too bad L didn't seem to much care for dying for anyone's sins, least of all for his own – no, instead he was going Abel and Cain on the only two people he had ever truly loved.

Now, even I had often thought he was cold and emotionless, but his love was just as deep as mine and Kira's – just like ours, it was deep enough to make him hurt his loved ones to keep them to himself.

He knew he could never have either of us in a peaceful, happy life, so he was going to make sure we would be his in death.

What a treacherous little whore.

I couldn't help but love every single treacherous cell of him.

* * *

_I can't believe I just wrote that._

_(In case you're not familiar with Christian mythology, the Holy Trinity is supposed to be the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. In Beyond's version, the Human Sacrifice refers to L and is, in a way, a parody of Jesus, who suffered for the sins of all humans so God wouldn't punish them. Abel and Cain, on the other hand, were brothers; God showered Abel with his love but shunned Cain, and Cain became the first murderer of mankind by killing his brother out of jealousy. The story of Abel and Cain doesn't really fit my story in any other way except for the "betraying your loved ones" part... It had more meaning in the original version, but eventually I decided to leave that out and here we are with a poor metaphor, lol. XDD)_

Please review?


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